


After We've Lost

by Nillegible



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Arson Mystery???, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, M/M, Murder Mystery, Uchiha Massacre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-01 09:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nillegible/pseuds/Nillegible
Summary: Tobirama is aware that the case is, honestly, rather a mess. Statements from Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Itachi, as well as the preliminary arson report, confirm that it’s a case of first-degree arson but they hit a wall there. The fire had consumed most of the evidence, leaving them with little to work with. There’s also no shortage of people who have wished the Uchiha ill, so there is an unfortunate overabundance of people with motive to kill one of the city’s founding clans. Yet none of them stand out as more likely to have actually done the deed.If anyone could help Tobirama make sense of this, it was Madara.Now, to see if he would.(Or: The Uchiha Massacre happens in a modern AU, and instead of sweeping it under the rug, the KPD and DA Tobirama try to catch the culprits. In the aftermath of the tragedy, Kakashi ends up the caretaker of the two survivors: Sasuke and Itachi.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, a police procedural/kid fic this time. Been sitting on this story for ages because...well. But I've decided to just post it! The tags and the story summary will keep expanding as the story progresses because I'd hate to spoil something with them.

Tobirama is at his desk, the files for his open cases stacked neatly to one side as he works through them. 

His phone rings, and he glances at the name and the photograph of a young woman with green eyes and picks it up absently. Koharu is not as prone to after work calls over sudden epiphanies as Kagami -who called at least once a week, Tobirama was still trying to train him out of it - but it's not unusual enough to alarm him.

"Is it the Yashamaru case?" he asks absently. That had seemed the least straightforward of what he had assigned her this week. It takes him a moment before he hears the ragged breathing on the other side. He sits up straighter instantly. "Koharu? What’s wrong?"

He strains his ears but can't hear the signs of a scuffle or traffic from her side. If anything, that's a television with the volume turned down low in the background. Closing his eyes he stretches his other senses, intending to locate her to make sure she's safe.

Instead, a white-hot inferno of chakra distracts him. He opens his eyes in alarm, but he can still feel it, how had he not noticed? It was - oh god, oh god, where were they? He focuses, staring into the white flames with his other eyes, feels out the familiar presences…too few, _god_ too few, only seven Uchiha, the Hatake boy, and others. Police-shinobi he’s seen around the precinct occasionally. While Tobirama watches, another presence flickers and vanishes, the flames of white chakra flaring bright after consuming the soul.

 _Mikoto._ He realizes a beat too late. That had been Mikoto.

Another one dwindles, _Yashoro_.

Three of them… Fugaku's children and Shisui were out of reach of the flames, though Shisui felt alarmingly faint. Fugaku and Kagami were still in the middle of it though. 

There’s nothing he can do. He watches the twin chakra flames flicker and spark in defiance, dwarfed by the inferno around them, fingers digging into the armrests of his desk chair until they crack and splinter.

It's almost beautiful, defiant to the end, two purple flames in the sea of white.

They don't stand a chance.

And so Senju Tobirama bears witness to the deaths of Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Kagami, alone in his office, except for the voice of his other - only, it's _only_ now - subordinate on the phone lying on his desk.

"Sensei? Can you see…?"

He doesn't answer her, can't find the words. Gone. Nearly all of them. _Kagami._ Senju Tobirama doesn't cry, hasn't had tears to shed since his brother's death. But his breath comes raggedly, painfully through the crushing weight in his chest.

"Oh," says Koharu, and her voice is weary and broken.

Inhale (it stabs, hurts _hurts_ ).

Kagami, the bright-eyed boy who'd decided not to join the police force and join the DA's office instead. The cheeky brat who'd worked with him, even though he was persona non grata with the other Uchiha, enduring the ridicule it earned him amongst his family.

Exhale (empty, so empty, there was no one there - _there’d been so many_ ).

Mikoto, Fugaku … all the dedicated, loyal men and women who loved too deeply, were far too stubborn, and burned too bright. Burned. _Christ._

He hears quiet crying, from his phone, overlaid over the sounds of Koharu's television and his own harsh breathing. He should say something, try to console her.

He reaches out and disconnects the call. There's nothing he can do for her, or for anyone.

It's over. 

He doesn't rise until morning, just stares unseeingly at the surface of his desk until it's time to leave for work.

The man who leaves his apartment in the morning looks perfectly put together; well dressed (in uncustomary black), eyes perhaps redder than usual but the defiant expression in the red eyes daring anyone to comment.

He'd have to pick up Kagami's work, and perhaps even Koharu's as well, today.

If there's one thing Tobirama has learned, through every single loss that he has had to face… it's that the world will spin on regardless of who has been lost.


	2. Kakashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi is on duty during the Uchiha's Winter Solstice celebration, missing his first in nearly a dozen years. The invitations are usually incredibly difficult to come by, and Kakashi might have tried to auction this year’s invitation off for a considerable sum if he hadn't been certain Fugaku would fire him for trying. 
> 
> The annual celebration is for family only - so selective that Obito's Uncle Kotuko's fiancé had been left off the list four years ago - but the Dept. couldn't afford to let Kakashi go today. The day of the Winter Solstice was always the day they were the most understaffed, as everyone on the force who wasn't an Uchiha (or Kakashi himself) took a double shift to cover for those who were partying.
> 
> It’s nearing the end of his first shift when the sky lights up oddly to the east. He’s already turned toward the disturbance when he hears it; the muffled boom of an explosion. He calls it in but doesn’t pay attention to the words. Explosion. Uchiha compound. Possibly they’d heard it all the way in HQ and didn’t even need his heads up. The closer he gets the more smoke he can see, thick and black, swallowing the stars and moonlight the clan was supposed to have been celebrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was actually supposed to be from Tobirama's point of view, and Kakashi was going to get a full story to himself. Only I realized that since I wrote this chapter firs my brain is incapable of figuring out how to explain all this stuff from Tobirama's POV. So since his bit is also ready, that'll be up tomorrow. For now, a Kakashi chapter!

Kakashi is still a little miffed that he's the one on duty and patrolling in his squad car during the Uchiha's Winter Solstice celebration. It’s going to be the first time in years that he’s going to miss it, he hasn’t since the first invitation appeared in his tiny flat a dozen years ago. The invitations are usually incredibly difficult to come by. Kakashi might have tried to auction this year’s invitation off for a considerable sum if he hadn't been certain Fugaku would fire him for trying. The annual celebration is for family only - so selective that Obito's Uncle Kotuko's  _ fiancé _ had been left off the list four years ago - but the Dept. couldn't afford to let Kakashi go today. The day of the Winter Solstice was always the day they were the most understaffed, as everyone on the force who wasn't an Uchiha (or Kakashi himself) took a double shift to cover for those who were partying.

This year, two deputies were down with a cold, and one was in recovery from a minor bullet wound, so someone had to miss the celebrations. Kakashi had volunteered since he wasn't  _ really _ family, and because Obito was overseas and unable to make it home in time. It wouldn’t be the same without him. Not that that extinguishes Kakashi’s disappointment over missing the feast, though, because the food is usually to die for. If Shisui hadn’t promised to bring him a share of the leftovers afterward, Kakashi is sure he wouldn’t be able to focus.

Kakashi receives two noise complaints, then checks in with a civilian who had skidded off the road and into a tree. Her hood is a bit crunched but she’s totally fine, and he does the needful as quickly as he can so that they can both get in out of the cold.

It’s nearing the end of his first shift when the sky lights up oddly to the east. He’s already turned toward the disturbance when he hears it; the muffled boom of an explosion. The noise shocks him into the familiar blankness from his ANBU days, emotions dropped from him like loose change and he turns, flicking his sirens on as he races to the source of the sound. He calls it in but doesn’t pay attention to the words. Explosion. Uchiha compound. Possibly they’d heard it all the way in HQ and didn’t even need his heads up.

The closer he gets the more smoke he can see, thick and black, swallowing the stars and moonlight the clan was supposed to have been celebrating. Instead, sickly orange light casts deep and flickering shadows as Kakashi drives toward the fire. He speeds up the Uchiha’s driveway, driving straight over lawns if it gave him even a slightly shorter path.

He practically falls out of his car in his hurry, sprinting for the burning building. It hasn’t collapsed, small mercies, because Kakashi had heard the explosion and feared the worst. Yet not one person is outside. Kakashi is moments away from summoning a water dragon and diving in but reason stops him. If his jutsu triggers the structure’s collapse, there will be no chance of getting anyone out alive.  There’s a reason Kakashi is not a firefighter. He sprints around the side of the building instead, to the patio doors that lead out from the kitchen. He shatters it with a kick, which shouldn’t be possible. The protection seals on the building had clearly faltered. Smoke billows out from behind the splintered glass, escaping Fugaku’s house. Kakashi dives into it.

He casts small wind jutsus to clear the air every few feet, squinting through the searing smoke and grateful for the mask over his face. He manages to get through the kitchen and the informal dining room before searing flames bar the way. These can’t be ordinary flames; through Obito’s eye they burn bright with chakra. Caution was with  _ hurry, hurry,  _ and Kakashi attempts a small water jutsu. If he can just clear this corridor, he can get to the formal dining room where the others should be… If they hadn’t been able to run. He forms the seals, fingers twisting out the familiar pattern but the sudden burst of water he expects doesn’t happen. Instead, Kakashi feels a  _ tug _ deep inside and stumbles forward, his chakra pulled towards the flames. The fire flares brighter, turning towards him, almost pulling him in like he’s caught on a line and he has to close his eyes, it’s too hot too bright,  _ Step closer,  _ it says and he almost does.  __

Kakashi releases the jutsu and backs away, snapping the tugging line to his strength.  _ What on earth was happening? _ The fire flickers dancingly closer, reaching out towards him as he stares. Before he can try something else, a strong hand wraps around his arm and pulls him back. Through the smoke, Kakashi makes out Gai’s face. He’s in a firefighting suit, and he looks oddly furious, for Gai. The gesture he makes is unmistakeably  _ Get the hell out _ even if it’s ruined by the heavy flame-retardant gloves. Kakashi does pull back, watches with Mangekyou activated as Gai approaches the fire. The flames don’t prey upon Gai, curling away once they meet the material of his suit. Relieved, Kakashi retreats, back through the broken porch doors along with the heavier smoke.

The Uchiha’s front lawn is a mess now, both firefighting and police shinobi have converged on the location. He heads to Ibiki, the Deputy Chief, hoping that he’d be given orders. Kakashi can feel the faint buzzing of his thoughts that signals the imminent loss of his battle-calm. If he doesn’t find a task soon, he might have to face the reality of this moment. 

He doesn’t want to.

“Kakashi!” says the Deputy Chief. There’s something strange in his eyes, “You’re needed over there. If they’re not hurt, move them outside the danger zone.” Kakashi turns to where he’s pointing. Two paramedics are bending over two… small, dark-haired children. 

Kakashi  _ runs _ .

He hits the dirt in front of them on his knees, in front of Itachi sitting on the ground with his arms carefully around his tinier brother. Sasuke is crying quietly, chubby arms clutching his brother. Itachi looks up at Kakashi then, with eyes a molten red. But the familiar tomoe in his Sharingan are gone. Instead, a single black pinwheel is centered in each eye.  _ Rin _ thinks Kakashi, with a sudden, twisting wrenching pain. There’s a starburst of pain in his left eye, as his Mangekyou throbs in sympathy.

“Itachi,” he says. His voice comes out too soft, a whisper behind his mask. “Are you hurt?” But a quick glance ascertains that he is not. Not injured, at least.

“Kakashi,” says Itachi, and his eyes are far too wide, pupils contracted. Kakashi remembers the first few times he had activated his Mangekyou, remembers the acute sensory overload and so he rises to his feet. Come on, let’s get you out of here. With a few hand signals, he sends a shadow clone to Ibiki. If all the other Uchiha are trapped inside - but he couldn’t consider that now, pushes it from his mind - he has a task. Get the children to safety. Protect them. He holds his hands out for Sasuke, and after a long moment, Itachi lets him go. Sasuke whimpers, but curls into Kakashi’s shoulder when he holds him close. He takes Itachi’s hand with his free one, and leads the children to his car.

Kakashi straps Sasuke into the back seat, and watches as Itachi climbs in beside him. He feels like he should say something. But  _ are you alright _ ? would be unimaginably stupid, and  _ it’ll be okay _ would be the same infuriating lie they had told him after Father’s death. He says nothing, just climbs silently into the driver’s seat and starts his car, extricating them from the flashing lights and sirens and the angry crackling roar of the fire, taking them halfway down the driveway so they’re out of the way of the other rescue workers, and beyond the reach of the smoke. And if the fire should spread into the woods…then this was a better place to flee from.  _ Please, gods, this is enough. Don’t let there be a wildfire.  _

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns around. “We’re just going to wait here, alright? They’ll let us know if something happens.” And then he says nothing. Partaking in that twisted, choking silence of those waiting for news so cruel that words wither away unformed.

Three ambulances pass them, sirens loud as they head for the hospital. Kakashi keeps an ear out for more. There isn’t a fourth.

He thinks he’s going to be sick. There’s that startling sensation of a clone dispelling, of unexperienced memories overlaid over his own. The memory of Ibiki’s exhausted words, “Take them home, Kakashi. Keep them with you, safe. I’ll call you in the morning with news or instructions.”

He takes one deep breath to steady himself, then fastens his seatbelt.

He can do this.

 

Kakashi lets himself and the children into his house. They haven’t spoken at all, and Kakashi hasn’t wanted to push the issue. “I have a spare bedroom that you two can take,” he says. “Let’s just get you out of those clothes.” They don’t answer to that either. He shows them to the bathroom and helps Sasuke out of his sooty, sweaty clothes and into a T-shirt that hangs on his slight frame like a nightgown. Itachi gets a cotton nightshirt and a pair of drawstring pants that Kakashi shortens to a decent length with a pair of scissors.

The linens on the bed are fresh enough, and he gets them settled. Sasuke falls asleep before he gets back from the kitchen with some fruit and glasses of water so he just sets them on the side table, and sinks down next to Itachi. The boy still has his Mangekyou active and after this long… Kakashi is sure that it can’t be voluntary. “Do you need help?” he asks softly. Itachi freezes for a long moment. Then he nods; just one hesitant inclination of his head. Kakashi moves closer. He thinks back to the first time Uchiha Taiko had helped him close off the Mangekyou, and places his palms over Itachi’s eyes. “Close your eyes.” He lets the faintest bit of chakra gather in his palms, and Itachi inhales sharply.

“Keep them closed. Now, concentrate on the chakra feeding into your eye,” Kakashi hadn’t understood Taiko’s actions at the time, but the chakra in his hands should block out all the other distracting sensations with its uniform brightness. “Don’t try to pinch it off, your eyes will be drawing too fast and it will snap back. Will it to slow down to a trickle until it’s under control.” He feels Itachi tense, and says, “Relax, it’s no different than controlling chakra to your fingertips or legs. Just breathe through it.” He feels more than sees Itachi regulate his breathing, following an exact tempo.

A few moments pass with Kakashi studying Itachi, and then he slumps forward in relief. Kakashi removes his hands, tips Itachi’s head up and says, “Open them.” Itachi’s familiar Sharingan, with comma-shaped spots instead of the pinwheel, look up at him. He’s relieved that it worked. Itachi tended to have his Sharingan active more often than not, and Kakashi finds that he cannot fault him for wanting the familiar defense out after tonight’s events. “You can sleep. I will be here,” he says. He creates a shadow clone to keep watch at the window, and retreats.

He makes it all the way out of the spare bedroom and two steps further down the hall before he slumps against the wall as everything hits him at once. Crushing, frightening loneliness, because of Fugaku. Taiko. Mikoto. Even if they hadn’t burned to death, he doesn’t know what the strange chakra eating flames would have done to the shinobi who had been trapped.

What is he going to tell  _ Obito _ ?

He doesn’t realize that his fingers are shaking until he can’t pull up Iruka’s name on his phone. It’s late now, Iruka and Naruto would definitely be in bed. He finally finds the instructor’s name and calls. It doesn’t matter if he wakes him up, he needs to talk to Iruka, he doesn’t, he’s just not… Well, actually Kakashi is better at being human now, better for having known Minato and Kushina and Rin. But he’s still not enough to take care of two broken children, when he barely functions himself. And Iruka will be kind enough to help. The phone rings once, twice. Kakashi doesn’t bother to put it up to his ear, props the phone up against his knees and just stares at the image Anko had programmed into his phone for Iruka. He can hear just fine this way.

“I’m on my way, Kakashi. I’m packing,” says the phone after the third ring. Oh. Iruka knew. He continues to stare at his phone. He doesn’t remember that he’s supposed to say something until Iruka speaks again. “Hey, Kakashi. We’ll be there. We’re just getting some things Sasuke or Itachi might want for the next day or two.” That was good. Kakashi still didn’t understand the younger man, who wasn’t a genius, or particularly strong, but was undeniably  _ good _ . “What are you doing right now?” asks the voice from his phone. That necessitated an answer, he has to say something, he says, “I’m…sitting.” He hears Iruka inhale and exhale on the other side. “Good. That’s good. Have you checked the wards?” He had, had done it the moment they’d entered his house. “Yes.”

“And have you put Sasuke to bed?” His voice suddenly grows far fainter, “Naruto, sweetheart, you’ll have to carry your backpack alright? We can pretend we’re going on a shinobi mission! You can sleep once we get there.” His voice closer again, “Kakashi?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, that’s good. We’re out the door. Give us fifteen minutes or so - No, Naruto, you cannot sit in the front just because it’s late – see you, Kakashi.”

He hears Naruto grumbling but it’s faint and mostly garbled. Car doors open and shut with a distinctive slam, and he hears the sounds of an engine rumbling to life. Perhaps Iruka had forgotten to disconnect. Kakashi’s thumb hovers over the red disconnect button for a moment, but then he just slips the phone into his pocket.

The quiet noises from his phone are comforting as he prowls through the house again, recalculating the possible escape routes, considering defensive strategies for when three children and a teacher are under his care. He’d only factored Itachi and Sasuke in when he did this before. It passes the time until he hears the car approaching, sees the flash of headlights as they turn onto his driveway.

 

Naruto must have fallen asleep during the short drive because Iruka is carrying a warmly jacketed bundle with bright yellow hair. Iruka himself is not dressed for the weather; he’s in a T-shirt and frayed tracks. He slips by Kakashi without an invitation, and Kakashi shuts the door behind him. 

“My bedroom. You and Naruto can share,” he says. It’s the least he can do for Iruka who has dropped everything to come this late. He walks through the house again, a few more times, peers out of every window. When the noises have all died down, he looks in on Naruto and Iruka who are asleep in his bed, before retiring to the guest room.

He lies on a futon on the floor of his guestroom that night, between the bed and the door. He doesn’t dispel the clone at the window. If he concentrates, he can hear Sasuke and Itachi breathing; can hear two more sets of fainter heartbeats beyond his own which is thudding in his ears. 

Every time he shuts his eyes he sees his father lying in a pool of blood, sees Rin, still and lifeless. Sensei and Kushina torn apart and broken. So, he keeps his eyes open, stares at the door, so he can be haunted by the thought of injured and dead Uchiha instead. 

His phone flashes messages at him every once in a while, in the dark room. Gai is keeping him updated. Shisui, hospitalized with first degree burns. Mikoto dead on the way to the hospital. Fugaku and Yashiro’s bodies hadn’t even been recovered yet. Taiko’s had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I know it seems pretty dark now, but it's not like the Uchiha Massacre didn't happen in canon, so. If you couldn't tell already this chapter was the result of the Uchiha Massacre getting mixed up with the Hale Fire in my head, but future events will make it into a proper (hopefully) mystery and not a supernatural drama, so hopefully, similarities to TW will end right here.
> 
> Aaand. I wanted to introduce Madara first because I like him A LOT and he hasn't even made an appearance yet. Next chapter for sure. (Does anyone want to guess why Madara wasn't at the party like the others were?)
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I hope it was clear what's happening. (I've reread this so often I've lost all semblance of objectivity. If anyone wants to beta-read for this story, I'd be eternally grateful! If anyone has the time and wouldn't mind, you can comment on Ao3 or Tumblr!)


	3. Tobirama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn’t think you would dare to show your face," says Madara quietly, chilling rage obvious even through the speakers that reform his words on Tobirama's side of the glass. "I wondered if you would. But then, it was always hubris that brought you down, not cowardice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second new chapter and Madara's finally here! I hope you like this one, I had so much fun writing it.

Tobirama is wrapped in a warm jacket, and he’s grateful for that as he steps out of his car and into the parking lot of the heavily guarded facility. At this time of day, just past seven a.m., the place isn’t very busy. Something he's grateful for; not many people are around to see him do this.

Not that he’d let embarrassment keep him away. Tobirama has earned himself an unshakeable reputation as cold and unflinchingly dedicated to his job. It’s the stuff of legend, something he knows his underlings pass on religiously to the newest rookies who join the DA’s office. Fortunately, they keep it out of his hearing. Possibly even the most wide-eyed of the admiring young ones could see how that might be tasteless. He suspects Koharu and Kagami had also played a role in keeping the whispers from him since they, unlike most others, were aware that he’s still human.

The case is, honestly, rather a mess. Statements from Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Itachi, as well as the preliminary arson report, confirm that it’s a case of first-degree arson but they hit a wall there. The fire had consumed most of the evidence, leaving them with little to work with from there. There’s also no shortage of people who have wished the Uchiha ill, so there is an unfortunate overabundance of people with motive to kill one of the city’s founding clans. Yet none of them stand out as more likely to have actually done the deed.

If anyone _could_ help Tobirama make sense of this, it was the man that he’s here to see.

Now, to see if he _would_.

 

Madara's cell is not meant to be uncomfortable. It's almost like a tiny dorm room, with a desk, television, bed, and small bathroom. If it wasn't warded to high heaven, and if all the windows hadn't been carefully silvered to be half reflective, one might never guess that Madara was a high-ranking prisoner at Konoha's corrections facility.

There are usually no direct sightlines to Madara, because of the danger he presents to the guards. The access window for speaking to the man in is in the adjacent cell, which is usually as heavily protected as Madara's own.

Tobirama enters that cell now, and Officer Yamanaka locks him in and activates the seals behind him. He cannot leave until someone can confirm that he is not under a genjutsu. A call that none of the Uchiha are allowed to make. Loyalty is a strange, twisted thing, and no one ever wanted to take that chance.

This second cell is also comfortable, if a little spartan. There are visible signs of other visitors, things left behind by the Uchiha who had chosen to visit their uncle or great uncle. Some photo albums, a few books, and some magazines have been neatly shelved beside the desk, which also contains a child's coloring book. Getting a book to Madara without the prison captain's permission was impossible since books were on the list of banned items, but the younger Uchiha sometimes came over to read to him.

There are also some children’s blocks on the floor, and Tobirama assumes they must be Sasuke's. He wonders if the child would like them back, now that he had so few of his own belongings. The sight of the abandoned blocks stirs something Tobirama did not mean to allow himself. He inhales the cold recycled air and imagines it freezing along his veins. He has nothing left, he has failed every person he has ever tried to help. There is no need for emotions now.

He opens the shutters separating him from Madara. The familiar, handsome face looks up at him. He looks unkempt, eyes red rimmed. His famous mane is gone, hair cropped short enough that it sticks up every which way. Madara goes absolutely, dangerously still, and then he rises to his feet gracefully. This too is familiar, that feline grace as Madara stalks towards him. Every move considered, careful. An unspoken threat.

"I didn’t think you would dare to show your face," says Madara quietly, chilling rage obvious even through the speakers that reform his words on Tobirama's side of the glass. "I wondered if you would. But then, it was always hubris that brought you down, not cowardice."

Perhaps it’s ironic that Tobirama meets those red eyes that burn with hatred evenly. But Madara speaks the truth, Tobirama has never been a coward. He will not be one now.

“I need a favour,” he says instead. It would probably be best to get to the point.

“And you think I would grant it to you?” asks Madara. Tobirama can hear the faintest thread of insanity, the miniscule oddness of pitch that tells him Madara is not nearly as collected as he has chosen to sound.

“It’s for Itachi and Sasuke,” says Tobirama.

“You’re on their case?” asks Madara. He laughs then, harsh, a haunting sound that stops so abruptly that the hair on Tobirama’s neck rises. “Kill them yourself, and save the bastards the trouble,” he says, and turns away. “In fact…there’s a free cell next to mine, and no one left to visit me. You could stay if you like.”

Tobirama watches Madara return to his bed, where he lies down facing away from him. He lets his head drop forward, resting his forehead against the cold glass. His eyes slide shut as he considers his next move. He hadn’t expected this to be easy, and yet… _You’re on their case? Kill them yourself._

Trust Madara to slide the knife in accurately and then _twist_.

“Madara… please?”

There’s a pause and then Madara turns, looking up at him from where he’s still lying on his bed. “Look who learned a new word! Should we clap? Yes, let’s!” he says, faux cheer dripping venomously over the words.  Madara rises to his feet again and approaches the glass. “This isn’t Kindergarten Senju. Saying please doesn’t magically require me to help you. Try again.”

“We’re prepared to re-negotiate your sentence for your help. You’re already eligible for parole in ten years, we can get that down to six if you cooperate now,” he says. He can tell from the smile on Madara’s face that the other man isn’t interested in the slightest. His eyes are cold as hell.

“Fascinating,” he says, and the voice is silky, taunting, the cadence so terribly familiar in spite of the hate now woven through every word. “Tell me again what I would do with four extra years of freedom when my house has burned to the ground with my family in it,” says Madara. His teeth are bared in the likeness of a grin, sharp and cruel. Madara is enjoying this.

“Try again, Senju. You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“Do you want me to beg?” he asks quietly. He needs Madara’s help, all his recent research suggests that the former chief of the Military Police had been on to something before he’d been arrested, before he’d snapped and murdered his brother’s killers. In the chaos that followed (investigating Madara, and then the other Uchiha in the force – which had been a herculean task when every other officer was an Uchiha – and then the fiercely contested election after which Fugaku finally became chief) a few key files had gone missing.

Madara does look interested at this offer, so Tobirama sinks to his knees. He bows his head low, and says, “Please.” When he looks up, Madara has one fist against the glass and is peering at him coldly. “Lower.”

Tobirama can feel himself flushing. His carefully frozen demeanour is being held together by sheer willpower, and Tobirama gathers it around himself before it can melt away. From anger or shame he cannot discern. He sinks lower, until he touches his forehead to the floor. “Please, Madara. I beg you. I need your help.” He stays there for a few moments, breathing faster. He doesn’t know if this is enough, if Madara wants him shamed further… but Madara finally says, “Tell me what you want, I’ll consider it.”

Tobirama exhales and moves to rise but is stopped. “No, no, stay down there. I rather think I deserve this view. After everything you’ve put me through.”

Bowing his head again, Tobirama explains what he needs. He stays on his knees when he’s finished, afraid to move before Madara makes up his mind. Tobirama is half convinced that there will be no information forthcoming, but for Sasuke and Itachi’s sake… for the sake of everyone he’s failed already, he stays bowed low.

“Anything you think would help,” he says quietly, eyes still on the cold tiled floor. He chances a glance up at Madara, whose hand is still upon the glass. His Sharingan eyes are spinning and he looks away quickly. The glass should prevent Madara from casting a genjutsu… but there’s no harm in

To his surprise, Madara does speak. “A single clue, Senju. Because I’m feeling generous today.” Tobirama nods. “Hatake-” Tobirama’s eyes must widen reflexively because Madara’s grin turns sharper. “-Sakumo.”

What in the world?

It is admittedly better than hearing the name Hatake Kakashi, the name of the young man who currently has custody of the two youngest Uchiha, but not by much. The primary reason being that Hatake Sakumo had committed suicide nearly fifteen years earlier.

“What do you mean?” he asks. It’s futile though. Madara turns away, and this time when he flops on the bed, no amount of pleading gets him to even face toward the window again.

When he finally leaves, Yamanaka Inoichi gives him a pitying look. Tobirama ignores it, striding away, but he can’t help but wonder if he had been watching the entire confrontation on the security cameras. He hopes the angry warmth in his cheeks isn’t obvious to anyone else who looks at him.

He has a fifteen-years-cold trail to follow.

A wary voice in Tobirama’s head drones ‘maybe it’s a distraction. Maybe he’s lying’ in the back of his head, looping over and over in different permutations, but he pushes it aside. Tobirama knew Uchiha Madara. Or had known him, years ago. He didn’t think Madara would lie to him about this. (‘Why wouldn’t he, though?’ asks the voice snidely. ‘It’s never mattered to him before.’)


	4. Iruka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka's still there in the morning to watch more things break apart.

Iruka startles awake around four in the morning and can’t fall back asleep. Kakashi’s chakra is moving faintly enough that he has to be awake but not moving. He doesn’t want to disturb Kakashi by getting in his way, but after a few minutes of futilely seeking sleep, Iruka gives up and rises.

He finds Kakashi sitting at his dining table, texting on his phone.

“Has there been any more news?” Iruka says, barely above a whisper. It’s not that if he speaks any louder he might wake up the children, just…what is the acceptable volume to address someone when their entire adopted family had just been attacked?

Kakashi turns to look at him but he’s quiet for a long while. Iruka should’ve just texted Genma, Kakashi’s clearly in no shape to answer. He’s about to say something to that effect when Kakashi says, “Shisui’s alive. Everyone else is. They didn’t.” _Sweet Hagoromo, no._ Kakashi turns away, looking back down at his phone. He’s holding himself too tightly, unnaturally still while his throat moves over unspoken words.

“Everyone else is _dead_ ,” says Kakashi, quietly, coldly, like he couldn’t bear to leave it unsaid. There’s coiled fury in those words, as though Kakashi is trying to banish them by speaking them out loud.

Iruka can only stand there, stunned for a few minutes, before wandering into the kitchen. There’s nothing else to do, and even grieving children will be hungry. Five minutes of fumbling in an unfamiliar kitchen later, Kakashi joins him, pulling out eggs and a hidden toaster Iruka had been searching for with practiced ease.

“I’m off work today,” he says. Iruka’s surprise must show on his face, because Kakashi shoots him a glance and adds, “Officially, I’m assigned to Sasuke and Itachi’s protection detail, but since I’m also their interim guardian until someone can contact Obito…day off.”

He sounds like even getting word to Obito might be difficult. It’s a pity that Iruka has only kept up with the city gossip since he became a teacher two years ago because he doesn’t quite remember what had happened then. He should probably ask Genma (who’s so deep into the Konoha grapevine he could probably start harvesting grapes) for the story. All Iruka remembers for sure is that after his teammate Rin died, Kakashi’s team had collapsed like a house of cards, with Obito fleeing the city without a backward glance.

“Alright,” says Iruka. He thinks Kakashi staying home is for the best really.

 

The doorbell rings shortly before lunch-time. It’s an oddly charming wind-chimey sound that rouses Kakashi from his seat to open the door. Iruka follows him, just to see what it’s about. A uniformed police officer, looking more than a bit exhausted, standing there holding a small casserole.

“Kakashi-senpai,” the man says. “This is for you.” He holds out the covered dish with a post-it. Leaning forward, Iruka can see that the writing has blurred out, like the paper had been damp, then dried. _‘Kakashi’s portion, DON’T EAT,’_ it reads, and Iruka looks up in shock.

“Shouldn’t that still be with evidence?” asks Kakashi, and Iruka can tell that he’s trying to keep his voice monotone, trying to stick to his usual bored cadence, but it isn’t working. Even the young deputy must be able to tell because he looks sympathetic. “We’ve got the pictures and samples for documentation. Not much of anything survived besides what was in their refrigerator.” He shrugs and offers a very weak smile. “The Captain wanted us to get rid of it all before it spoiled. The rest of the portions marked for you must’ve gone sour from the heat. But the cake is still okay, and just. It had your name on it, and I thought, it’s kind of a last wish, right? I just…” he trails off. Kakashi hasn’t moved and the Deputy is growing anxious at the lack of response. He’s probably rethinking his decision to come here so Iruka steps up.

“Thank you, Deputy. It was very kind of you to do this for us. We’re just having a hard time right now.”

The man offers flustered apologies and condolences and takes his leave. Iruka shuts the door once he’s gone and turns to Kakashi, who’s still standing frozen, eyes unfocused, clutching the casserole. “Kakashi?” asks Iruka. “Are you okay?”

Kakashi doesn't really snap out of it, just turns around and heads to the kitchen, sets the dish on the counter.

"Kakashi-"

"I asked him to. I told Shisui that there'd better be leftovers put away for me or I'd make him miserable."

And then Kakashi hurls it, the dish flying across the room to crash against a wall and slide down, a mess of frosting and cake and ceramic shards and bent, heavy-duty plastic.

Just as quickly Kakashi’s across the room, kneeling down at the mess he's made and Iruka hurries to stop him before he injures himself. He's -the absolute fool - trying to mop up the mess with his bare hands and all he's doing is adding some blood to the mix. Iruka pulls him away and to the kitchen sink, and Kakashi comes with him, unresisting.

Iruka rinses pale hands off under the tap, leaning close to check for shards embedded in Kakashi's skin. He pulls out two, and folds Kakashi's fingers carefully so that he's pinching the largest cuts closed. They’re not deep, they’ll close over given a few minutes. As someone who teaches small children Iruka is quite adept at telling superficial injuries from serious ones.

Not that Iruka isn’t _furious_ with Kakashi _._ He looks into a wide grey eye above Kakashi’s ever present mask and says, "Sit down and don't move." He'd meant to be kind but his voice comes out sharply. It's his irritated teacher voice, the sort of voice that evolves from trying to be the only sane, responsible adult in a room, and somehow Kakashi listens to it; walks over to one of the dining table chairs and sits.

Iruka pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to hold it together. This isn’t good. He has no right to yell at Kakashi, and so he says, “I’m really sorry. Are you okay?” Kakashi shrugs.

“Just, just stay there for a few minutes. Call Pakkun or the others if you have to. I have to clean this up before the children come down and step on something. Because Iruka is not an _idiot,_ he uses a plastic spatula and a flexible cutting board to pick up the broken pieces. There’s one piece that catches his eye.

It’s small and cylindrical and instantly obvious for what it is. He doesn’t call for Kakashi, just slips the metal cylinder into his palm and cleans up the rest of the mess, carefully now, in case there’s anything else hidden in the cake. With the broken dish and cake safely disposed of, and a quick spritz and wipe down of the wall and floor, Iruka takes the cylinder to the sink and washes the cake off.

Then he goes and sits at the table beside Kakashi’s slouching, still form. He _thinks_ this is the right thing to do, so he says quietly, “Kakashi, look.” When Kakashi raises his head to look at him tiredly, Iruka holds out the cylinder in the palm of his hand.

“This was in the cake.”

It’s gone from Iruka’s hand instantly. Kakashi pushing up the hairband that covers his other eye and regarding it carefully. There’s not the slightest expression, not fear, or worry, or hipe, just pure focus as he carefully turns it over and over in pale fingers. Then he slides a nail into the thin groove in the middle and tugs it open, revealing the very fine, thin paper rolled into a tiny scroll.

It’s from Shisui.

_Kakashi, forgive me. This was the only way out I could see. I’m glad you missed Dinner this year. Take care of my cousins._

Iruka, who had over to read it reels backward. _No. Shisui wouldn’t. He couldn’t have._ Kakashi has gone pale, but his eyes still burn only with focus, prompting Iruka to say, “Do you think he could have done it?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer.

“We need to show this to Ibiki.”

“No,” says Kakashi, rolling the note up and returning it to the capsule and into his pocket.

“Kakashi, it’s not yours to keep. The police have to know.” And Kakashi is probably a suspect. Not a _main_ one, or the kids wouldn’t have been left to his care, but they need to work all the angles.

“This would only distract them from the real killers, Iruka. Shisui is lying,” says Kakashi. He sounds certain.

Iruka wants to believe that too, wants _desperately_ not to think of Shisui as a suicidal kin-slayer, but at least he can tell that it’s wishful thinking.

They had Shisui’s confession. _I’m sorry._ What a. What an impossible thing to say. _If you were sorry, why did you do it?_

“Someone was coercing him,” he whispers. It’s the only thing that could make sense. If someone had forced Shisui’s hand…

“Maybe,” says Kakashi. Then quieter, and more thoughtfully, “ _maybe_.” Iruka is not a genius, but Kakashi _is_ and Iruka can see that he’s considered and dismissed Iruka’s idea. No, he’s already decided something else is more likely. This little confession means something else to Kakashi.

“If you don’t tell Ibiki, I will,” he says seriously. This isn’t the sort of thing that can be kept secret.

“You _can’t_ ,” says Kakashi, looking him straight in the eyes.

It’s the first time that Iruka has looked into a Mangekyo full-on, but he holds his ground. Stares into the solemn grey eye and the slowly whirling red one.

 _I will,_ he should say. Or, _you can’t stop me,_ which wouldn’t even be true. Gods above, Iruka should at least be afraid.

“Then _convince_ me,” says Iruka instead.

Kakashi had better have a good reason for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but this is important to the story! Coming up next, Obito's return, and a planned jail-break; which is honestly the bit that changed this fic from a fluffy hurt/comfort kid-fic to what it is now.
> 
> Also, since Tobirama's prologue and Chapter 1 (with Kakashi) technically both start the story independently, I REALLY can't decide which one makes a better first chapter. If you have an opinion on which one would be better to start with, let me know? I keep swapping them back and forth.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please do leave a comment if you have a moment, and any advice/criticism or anything else. I'd love to hear what you think. Or you can find me on my tumblr which basically exists to stalk Blackkatmagic and Hiruma-Musouka, but sometimes has too-short-for-ao3 drabbles. 
> 
> I really hope you liked the story thus far!


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